L'Chaiim
by med-anomaly
Summary: Wilson gets some bad news and finds comfort and hope with House. Strong friendship, preslash if you prefer. Note: L'Chaiim means To Life.


L'Chai-im (To Life)

"Want to catch Chase and Cameron doing it in an empty patient room?" House asked as he entered Wilson's office.

"Seriously, not in the mood House," Wilson says in an irritated tone.

"Who sneezed in your cocoa puffs?"

"Not today." The sad throaty tinge to his voice doesn't fit. House is intrigued.

"Uh oh, lose a little bald-headed hero?" House asks, settling in the chair opposite Wilson.

"I don't want to talk about it," Wilson says closing his eyes and rubbing his face, eventually letting his chin rest on his hand.

"I'm certainly not asking you to," House responds with a stifled snort, but he remains quiet leaving an opening for Wilson to speak if he chooses to. After a silent standoff, House decides a change of scene is in order. "Come on, let's get out of here. Chinese food and TiVo?"

Wilson thought about it for a few moments weighing the pros and cons of spending tonight alone versus spending it with House. He sighs deeply.

"Yeah, all right."

"Great, I'm just going to get my stuff and stop my fellows from fornicating on hospital grounds. I'll meet you there."

House went straight to his computer to look up which of Wilson's patients had bitten the bullet. He hadn't heard about it through his usual methods, so he figured it must have been a home or hospice death. He enters into the Oncology files and searches, but finds nothing. No deaths amongst Wilson's patients the previous day either. This was curious.

House was surprised to find his apartment empty when he arrived. He was sure he had seen Wilson's Volvo dripping decency and responsibility not far from his building. He stepped outside to investigate.

He saw Wilson's car, and then he saw Wilson sitting in the front seat staring at his hands. This was growing curiouser and curiouser. If House had to say, he'd say that there was worry and concern for Wilson mixing in with his desire to solve this mystery. Thankfully, he did not have to say.

Wilson seemed transfixed on his hands. House noted the car was unlocked and pulled open the door. "You know this isn't a delivery service. You do actually have to come inside for the food and TV."

Wilson stared up blankly for a moment, startled out of whatever thoughts had engrossed him. The fading light of dusk made it hard to be sure, but House thought there was a decidedly red tinge to Wilson's eyes. "Come on," House said studying Wilson.

Wilson felt overcome with exhaustion as he used the car door to lever himself out. House stumbled a bit when the door shifted under his hand. Suddenly, their faces were only inches apart. Wilson quickly shifted his gaze to the side, but didn't move. Feeling the warmth of House's body and breath was comforting. House had no doubt, from this proximity. Wilson had been crying or on the verge of tears.

"Look, clearly something's got your boxers in a bunch, but must you take it out on innocent cripples such as myself," House pokes when the silent tension between them becomes unbearable.

Wilson lets out a strained noise somewhere between a snort and a sob. "If you're innocent, I'm virginal."

House couldn't help but smile, both at the quip and the fact that Wilson finally seemed a little like Wilson and less like a moping, alien life form. They make their way inside and House observes that Wilson has a piece of fruit in a clear supermarket produce bag, his cell phone and wallet in his hands.

They plop down on the couch and House turns on the television, but keeps his focus on his friend. "You know, considering they all have cancer, your patients have been very good about staying alive lately."

"Huh, did you make sure to check on all the patients I had to refer out when you got my prescribing privileges suspended," there was more than a little bite to Wilson's words.

"Is that what this is about? You missed out on holding one of their hands in their last few moments?"

"There is no this, House. Just drop it."

"We have met before, right?"

Wilson buried his face in his hands for a moment. In a way, he knew he had agreed to have this conversation when he agreed to spend the night with House, but that didn't make the words come any easier. House wasn't sure how to draw his friend back out, but knew he had to. So, he decided to give voice to an idea he had been tossing around for a while.

"You should move back in here."

"This is sudden," Wilson said haltingly, coming out from under his hands to throw House a, 'you're not serious?' look.

"Things are rarely as sudden as they seem," House said seriously.

Wilson didn't know how House always managed to know exactly what to say to push him over the edge. He let out another spurt of laughter choked and intermingled with a sob. House was beginning to think he was watching his friend's slow descent into madness.

"That's definitely true." Wilson looked straight ahead for a moment before continuing. "I talked to my parents today," he said softly, regaining control of his emotions.

"Oh." House paused for a moment. This was not what he had been expecting. "Trouble on the home front?"

"It was seven years ago today that they reported my brother Joshua missing," Wilson tried to maintain a formal detached tone. He knew House would understand the implication.

House wasn't quite sure what to say. Wilson's brother was now legally dead, but did that really change anything. It obviously did, but he wasn't sure why.

"You know, legal may trump logic, but hope is a stubborn little feathered bugger."

Wilson looked up, brown met blue and he wondered how after all these years, House could still surprise him. He knew how to comfort without pandering or even being kind. His chest felt lighter, the weight of the rest of the world thinking Joshua was dead lifted slightly. The finality of Joshua's death being official, hearing his mother's mournful tears, had made it feel real, but the reality was nothing had changed besides some words on some legal document that Wilson would never see. The truth was that Joshua would continue to live in Wilson's memories and hopes just as he had for more than a decade. "That it is," he said finally. The silence dragged on for a time, but House was unaccustomed to things being so still and quiet.

"What's with the fruit?" he asked, genuinely curious.

"A prickly pear. There were five of us in my house when I was growing up. We each used to get a day of the week, and whatever fruit we chose, everyone had to eat that fruit that day. It was my mom's attempt at getting us excited about fruit, I guess," Wilson took the pear out of the bag and turned it in his hands as he spoke. "My brother Joshua always insisted on the prickly pear. Everyone else chose fruit they were in the mood for or really liked, but not him. I used to like to believe that he chose it because it was like him, thick-skinned and rough on the outside, but soft and sweet on the inside. But, I think he really just chose it because it was hard to find and annoying to eat. Inconveniencing everyone else was what he really liked most about it. It was like he wanted to punish us for forcing him to be a part of the group…the family," Wilson's voice caught in his throat on the world family.

House just nodded, letting Wilson speak. Wilson stared at the fruit in his hand for a time. "You know in some ways you remind me of him, and the pear."

"Oh, is this the part where you tell me how I'm sharp and thick-skinned on the outside, but really sweet on the inside?"

"No, you're sharp and thick-skinned on the outside, and just when you think the inside might be sweet and tolerable, you bite down on one of the many annoying seeds," Wilson said feeling more at peace than he had all night. He was glad he had decided to spend tonight with House. He had often wondered about the similarities between House and Joshua, and had concluded that House was the kind of man he had tried to believe Joshua was. The kind of man he would have chosen for his brother to grow into, if he could have chosen.

"Give," House said reaching for the fruit. He disappeared for a time, leaving Wilson with his thoughts. House couldn't help but smirk at their sudden role reversal. He called in their dinner order, cut up the damn pear, put a plate on top of the fruit laden bowl and placed two glasses with ice in them on top of the plate. He hated doing the one-handed balancing act, but sometimes it was unavoidable. He put everything on the coffee table and then grabbed a bottle of scotch. He poured the drinks and handed Wilson a glass before settling back down on the couch.

"L'chai-im," House said holding up his glass aiming for a hopeful tone.

"L'chai-im," Wilson mirrored softly before downing his drink in one gulp, feeling better than he had all night. It was strange how right it felt to be drinking to life on the day his brother was declared legally dead. To life, there was a lot of hope in that statement. This time House's ability to find exactly the right thing to say was not so surprising, but the hand he placed on Wilson's shoulder before reaching for his empty glass was. House downed his drink and put both glasses back on the table before settling back in on the couch.

"So, you moving back in or what," House asked as Wilson scanned through the list of programs looking for something to watch.

"Only if I can set a few ground rules, first."

"Great."

"Seriously, you're agreeing, just like that?"

"I have yet to meet a rule I didn't enjoy breaking."

"Hey, I mean it," Wilson said pointing a finger at House, but he finds himself smiling with his eyes despite his exasperation.


End file.
